Starting from Scratch (Starting from 2)

But Ky got me.

He thought I was funny and smart, and the way he looked at me from the stage with hooded eyes and a wicked grin made me think he meant it when he said I was his sexy boy. He actually called me that, by the way…sexy boy. I should have hated it, but I fucking loved it. I loved everything about Ky. His swagger, his cool under pressure vibe, his silly sense of humor, and his courageous spirit. He wasn’t afraid to take chances or start over and over again if necessary. He didn’t let bad breaks define him. He soldiered on and stayed focused on the future. I admired him. And I didn’t let on that I knew he used his swagger to protect himself. He’d been hurt by the people who should have supported him. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why he only let lovers in so far before turning them away.

But he let me stay.

I saw pieces of him no one else did. We didn’t talk about our feelings. We didn’t have to. We acted. We spent a lot of time together, but we didn’t crowd each other. I stayed out of the studio unless I needed to communicate important info to the band. But I waited for him after practice, ate dinner with him, watched Netflix, chilled, and slept with him every night. I didn’t need words to know he wanted me as much as I wanted him. But the harder I fell, the more I hoped he might love me too.

Don’t worry. I wasn’t the creepy, needy type. I wouldn’t dare put Ky on the spot. If—I mean, when—one of us said those three little words, it would be the right time. For now, I loved us. And in a rare show of self-control, I promised myself not to be greedy. Between the holiday and preparing a presentation for the band, I had plenty to keep me busy anyway.

I worked on my business plan and the preliminary logistics to obtain financing for the proposed label, outlining the positives and negatives. I even used cool graphics on my handouts to keep their interest in case their eyes glazed over from the boring parts about cash flow and profit and loss projections. I wanted to give them a comprehensive report including viable alternatives in case the guys hated my idea.

They loved it. I supposed that should have been a sign something was about to blow up.

And it did.

“So, we’d use what we’ve already recorded, polish it up, and release it…where? YouTube?” Tegan asked, leaning forward with elbows on his knees.

“No. We’ll distribute it to Spotify, Apple, and work the radio angle. I’ve been in contact with some big stations throughout the country. They have your demo, concert footage, and your social media info. They know you’re the real deal and they’re interested. If you say go, a couple of stations will start playing ‘Trouble’ now.

“Go.” Justin straightened from the doorjamb and unfolded his arms before casting his gaze around the studio. “Right? It sounds like a no-brainer. Charlie’s given us the platform and exposure we’ve needed to become interesting to big, medium, and small labels, but if we sign with any of them, we’re going to lose some creative control.”

“But a real label usually has more than one act,” Johnny said.

“True. And so can we. I’ve included this in my plan.” I pointed at my computer screen and referenced page two. “We can sign an act this year. Someone who complements your sound would be best. We can tour with whomever we choose, cross-promote, and best of all, make a profit.”

“Assuming we don’t bomb.” Ky shot a lazy half smile at me when I furrowed my brow and growled at him.

“You don’t suck, and we wouldn’t choose anyone who sucks,” I replied primly.

“So Ky doesn’t suck?” Justin teased.

“I suck all the time. Don’t I, Char?”

I stood abruptly and set my hands on my hips. “Oh, my God. Can anyone here focus? Is it a yes or a no?”

“It’s a great idea.” Tegan made a paper airplane of the handout I’d given him and tossed it at Justin before settling in front of my laptop. “I hate looking at reports. Makes me feel like I’m back in school. Can I check it out on your computer?”

“Sure.”

“I say yes,” Johnny piped in.

“Me too,” Ky said, hooking his finger in my belt loop.

“What comes next? Do we hire an engineer or—”

“Whoa. What the fuck?” Tegan froze, then lifted his hands off my keyboard like he’d been burned.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

“I didn’t touch anything. I swear. Two new texts just popped up in Messenger. Declan McNamara says, and I quote…’What time can you meet on Friday?’ What are you doing, Charlie?”

All four guys turned to me at once. Justin, Johnny, and Tegan looked confused and pissed. I expected Ky to pull away from me and join them, but he didn’t move.